


Three in a Bed

by epeolatry



Series: Halcyon Days [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Comeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bahorel & Grantaire have had another big night out - Feuilly is sick and tired of dragging them home after a full day's work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three in a Bed

“I,” announced Bahorel with a triumphant flourish, “Am drunk.”

Grantaire’s mouth was occupied with a wine bottle and Feuilly had his tongue clamped between his teeth as he tried to concentrate on getting the key into the dodgy lock on their front door.

Bahorel was never one to be ignored so he slapped Feuilly hard on the arse and nudged Grantaire clumsily, “Don’t you think fox-face here has a sweet ass?”

Grantaire sniggered, “For a ginge, I guess.”

Bahorel snorted and squeezed Feuilly’s arse as the key finally slid into place, “If you’re gonna be rude you can go back to your own shitty flat and leave me to fuck this gorgeous piece of ass on the living room floor!”

Feuilly shoved open the door and growled, “If you two don’t shut your mouths I’m gonna put both of you on the floor! Jesus Christ, is it not bad enough that I have to scrape you off the pavement every Friday night? You’re gonna make me endure your shit faced flirting as well? Pity the poor girls at whichever bar you were kicked out of tonight!”

As he stalked into the darkened hall Bahorel and Grantaire exchanged a Look.

Grantaire elbowed Bahorel in the ribs and quirked an eyebrow. Do you think we went too far?

Bahorel smirked and shrugged. Nah, he’s always like this when he’s been working nights.

Grantaire cocked his head. How long since he’s slept?

Bahorel screwed up his face. No idea.

Grantaire grinned slyly. Shall we make sure he sleeps well tonight?

Bahorel bared his teeth and nodded once.

Both men smiled conspiratorially and followed Feuilly into the privacy of the flat.

“Grantaire and I have a proposition,” Bahorel used his announcing voice again.

Feuilly rolled his eyes as the flare of a cigarette tip briefly lit his face, “It wouldn’t happen to involve you both shutting the fuck up for ten minutes would it?”

The corners of Grantaire’s lips twitched, “It might do, if you want.”

Feuilly’s eyes gleamed in the wan glow of his smoke as a flicker of understanding seemed to pass across his face, “I’m listening.”

Bahorel fell easily into his role, sliding over to Feuilly and murmuring lowly, “We feel bad about tonight, so we want to make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah?” drawled Feuilly, blowing out a casual cloud of smoke; he knew this game, “How’s that then?”

“However you like,” smirked Grantaire, wrapping himself around Bahorel and sliding one hand into the back pocket of the larger man’s jeans to knead and squeeze.

Feuilly made an airy, noncommittal noise around the cigarette that dangled from his lips, then turned and sauntered toward the bedroom, nonchalantly calling out, “Are you coming to bed then?” as the darkness swallowed him.

Oh yes, Feuilly knew this game.

So did Bahorel and Grantaire, who made him wait for them while Bahorel pinned Grantaire to the wall outside for a few moments and did some truly sinful things with his teeth and tongue.

Feuilly wasn’t in any hurry as he flicked on the bedside lamp, slumped into the pillows of his own bed, and sucked down the last of his cigarette contemplatively, his mind wandering through wisps of fantasy as Grantaire’s moans from the hallway filled the small flat.

It wasn’t often that Bahorel instigated this sort of game, he usually only did it when he knew Feuilly was having an especially tough time at work and needed something to take control of, to take his frustration out on… Bahorel usually avoided games altogether – just bend over, two fingers, and ten minutes later you were left seeing stars. Grantaire on the other hand loved these games. Whenever Feuilly and Bahorel took him home after a night out he was more than happy to play fucktoy to them both, literally begging to be used. They indulged him, Bahorel got his end away quick and rough, while Feuilly could take his time; everyone was happy. But tonight was different…

Grantaire stumbled into the room giggling, already sans shirt and with his jeans unbuttoned, gaping open to reveal his bottle green boxer shorts. Bahorel pursued him, grinning wolfishly and also shirtless – Bahorel never lost an opportunity to show off his carefully honed physique.

“What are you two doing?” asked Feuilly sharply.

Something seemed to change in the air between them then, a pause, a silence, a question posed and an answer given willingly; are we really doing this? Yes, yes we are.

Grantaire’s hands snapped behind his back and his eyes dropped to the ground as a docile look came over his face. Bahorel merely grinned challengingly at Feuilly; the boxer always made him work for it.

“Shall I tell you what you’re doing?” Feuilly threatened, still lounging comfortably against his pillows, “You’re both going to get on your knees and we’re going to have some quiet at last.”

Grantaire dropped obediently without a word, his knees thudding dully onto the threadbare carpet. Bahorel remained standing.

Feuilly sighed theatrically, “Bahorel, drop your pants.”

This time the boxer obeyed, his trousers and boxers pooling around his ankles and his impressive body bared in the half light cast by the lamp, the sight enough to pull Grantaire’s submissive eyes up from the floor to admire the rippling muscles and dark, tattooed skin.

“Grantaire,” the artist’s eyes snapped back to Feuilly, a guilty look in them, “Bring me Bahorel’s belt.”

Grantaire crawled over to Bahorel’s discarded jeans and pulled the belt free, then crawled to the bed and handed it up to Feuilly.

“Good boy,” Feuilly praised, stroking his dark curls like a well-loved dog as Grantaire nuzzled into his palm.

“Grantaire is a very good boy and good boys get rewarded. Bahorel, I’m giving you one more chance to be good like Grantaire. Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Bahorel smirked and said, “No thanks. I don’t like the look of this carpet.”

Grantaire got off on being ordered around and debased; he would do anything Feuilly told him to right now and enjoy it. Bahorel, not so much. Bahorel was tough, he was physically strong, and he only got off on being controlled if he felt the control being exerted over him was real. He enjoyed pain more than Grantaire did, and he took it better too. It was what he wanted, which was why Feuilly refused to give it to him tonight.

“Bahorel get over here. Lay down on the bed.”

Bahorel fell into the trap, eagerly stretching himself out over the bed for his punishment. Instead Feuilly grabbed his wrists and deftly looped the belt around them before Bahorel could react, the alcohol slowing his usually fast reflexes.

“Wha-?”

Feuilly had Bahorel’s wrists bound together and tied to the headboard of the bed before the bigger man could even begin to struggle. Though as soon as it became clear he wasn’t getting what had been expected he did struggle. He struggled a lot. He struggled until Feuilly slapped him once across the face to appease him and muttered, “You’re not getting loose. Just accept it.”

Bahorel did. He went limp on the mattress but his eyes still blazed.

“Don’t look at me like that. You were acting like a brat and now you’re being punished. If you’re good and you take your punishment well I might beat you later.”

Bahorel’s face relaxed at that and he muttered, “Yes, Feuilly,” quite calmly.

“Good boy,” Feuilly smiled, slapping Bahorel lightly on the inside of his thigh, making the larger man’s half hard cock stir.

“Grantaire?”

Grantaire had remained kneeling mutely on the floor but his head jerked up as Feuilly called his name, “Yes sir?”

“Get up here. And lose the trousers.”

Grantaire obeyed, kneeling on the bed beside Bahorel, both as naked as each other, though Grantaire was considerably harder.

Feuilly smirked and looked pointedly at Grantaire’s cock, “That looks sore, sweet boy.”

Grantaire nodded, trembling a little as Feuilly rested a strong hand gently over his collarbones, then dragged it downwards, his fingernails leaving light pink lines across Grantaire’s pale chest.

“I did promise you a reward. Would you like to come?”

Grantaire nodded again, this time with more fervour.

“Excellent boy,” Feuilly smiled fondly, enjoying Grantaire’s little shiver at the praise, “Now, I want you to climb up onto Bahorel’s chest and make him choke on your cock.”

Grantaire looked a little lost, so for good measure Feuilly barked, “Now, slut!”

Grantaire threw one leg over Bahorel’s broad chest and mounted him, kneeling up over the larger man and guiding his cock into the willing mouth with a low groan.

Feuilly could feel his own cock swelling in his jeans as he watched Grantaire slide in and out of Bahorel’s tight lips, listened to the dark haired man’s moans increasing in frequency and volume, the little gagging noises Bahorel made when Grantaire thrust in particularly hard… Bahorel’s eyes were bright with tears but his cock was fully hard and twitching against his stomach and Feuilly knew that though he may not be getting what he had wanted, he was certainly getting what he needed.

“Are you enjoying that?” Feuilly asked, directing the question to both of his lovers.

Grantaire responded with a low moan and a stuttered, “Y-yes sir.”

Bahorel gave a muffled groan in the depths of his throat, a tear spilling down his cheek as Grantaire fucked into his mouth.

“Are you close, ‘Aire?”

“Yes,” Grantaire panted, “Can I? Please?”

“Go ahead,” Feuilly nodded with a smirk, “But I don’t think Bahorel wants to swallow tonight. I think he wants you to pull out and come across his pretty face. Right, Bahorel?”

The larger man’s eyes squeezed shut but his expression was one of ecstasy and his cock throbbed noticeably.

“Come for me,” urged Feuilly, palming himself through his trousers, “Come on ‘Aire.”

With a whimper and a moan Grantaire did so, obeying Feuilly to the letter by pulling out at the last second and spurting his release over Bahorel’s cheeks and nose and chin, some landing in his open, panting mouth. Grantaire slumped over on Bahorel’s chest, burying his head in the side of the larger man’s neck as he recovered himself.

“What a good boy,” Feuilly praised, “I’m so proud of you ‘Aire, look what a perfect mess you’re made of Bahorel.”

Bahorel’s eyes were dilated and his mouth remained open, drawing in gasps of breath still as Feuilly turned to him and growled, “Are you ready to be a good boy too Bahorel?”

The boxer nodded his head once.

“And if I untie you will you get on your knees for me?”

“Yes,” rasped Bahorel, licking his lips and catching a little of Grantaire’s come as he did so.

“Good boy. Good, messy boy. ‘Aire!” Feuilly’s sharp bark jerked Grantaire out of his haze.

“Clean up your mess.”

Grantaire melted into a lazy kiss with Bahorel, licking up his come and sharing it between his own mouth and Bahorel’s. Even when Bahorel was clean again they kept kissing, Grantaire’s hands buried in Bahorel’s shaggy mohawk and their naked bodies grinding together, Bahorel desperate and leaking and Grantaire still sensitive and only half-hard.

Feuilly stood quietly and pulled off his shirt, then shucked off his jeans. Gently he pulled Grantaire away from Bahorel with one firm hand in his dark hair.

“That’s enough, I have a better use for your mouths. Grantaire, untie Bahorel and then both of you get on your knees.”

It was done in a flash; Bahorel had definitely given in and was now just as willing as Grantaire to be put in his place. Feuilly languidly stroked his stiff cock as Grantaire and Bahorel licked their lips and shuffled closer on their knees, not yet reaching out to touch him, not until they were given permission.

“Have you two earned this?” Feuilly asked archly. When no response was forthcoming he pressed, “’Aire, has Bahorel earned this?”

Grantaire nodded eagerly, tugging at his prick, “Yes sir, yes, please.”

“Bahorel, has ‘Aire been a good boy?”

Bahorel nodded silently, his tongue preoccupied with sliding ceaselessly over his lips.

“Alright then, come here whores.”

Bahorel and Grantaire both lunged forward eagerly, Bahorel wrapping his large fist around Feuilly’s shaft as Grantaire began to suck gently on his balls. Feuilly groaned loudly in relief; he hadn’t realised how worked up he’d gotten watching his lovers together until the first wet press of tongue to heated skin had pushed him almost to orgasm. He reined himself in with a controlling hand curled in Grantaire’s hair and a sharp slap to Bahorel’s face.

“Slow down, I want to enjoy this.”

They obeyed, and just that knowledge sent a fresh rush of blood to Feuilly’s groin. It was assisted of course by Grantaire licking his way carefully around to tongue at Feuilly’s hole, and Bahorel hollowing his cheeks and taking Feuilly’s cock deep into his throat just as he’d done for Grantaire.

“Fucking hell,” Feuilly breathed shakily, “’Aire, fuck!”

Grantaire pressed his tongue inside and earned another shudder from Feuilly.

“Jesus Christ!” Bahorel was apparently competing for attention, because he swirled his pierced tongue obscenely around Feuilly’s cock and sucked fiercely at the head, snapping the red head’s attention back to himself.

“Brat,” growled Feuilly fondly, before yanking Bahorel back sharply by the hair, ‘’Aire- fuck! Come on. Both of you, god, now.”

Bahorel pulled Grantaire into a deep kiss, the taste of all three of them mixing in their mouths before Feuilly whined and as one Bahorel and Grantaire returned to his cock, half kissing each other still and half mouthing at the head.

“F-fuck,” Feuilly shuddered, “Fuck!”

He came thickly over the lips of both his lovers, watching transfixed as Grantaire and Bahorel continued to kiss each other deeply, sharing his come as they jerked each other off roughly. Feuilly was too satisfied and exhausted to try to enforce any further control and he was more than content to stumble over to the bed and lie down, simply watching as first Bahorel came into Grantaire’s fist with a grunt, then Grantaire came with a whimper and Bahorel’s teeth sunk deeply into his shoulder.

As usual Bahorel was the first to recover, Grantaire swaying where he still knelt, allowing the larger man to clean him off with a tissue and nudge him to his feet. He stumbled into the bed and immediately curled up against Feuilly, nuzzling his face into the lean, freckled chest and clutching childishly for Feuilly’s hand to hold.

“Shh, you’re okay. You were so good, you were such a good boy. How do you feel?”

“Sleepy,” murmured Grantaire, pressing his face deeper into Feuilly’s warm skin.

“Then sleep. My good boy.”

Bahorel emerged from the bathroom clean and smelling of soap, then collapsed on Grantaire’s other side, throwing a thick arm across the sleeping man and tipping a tired grin to Feuilly.

“Alright?” Feuilly asked quietly, already feeling the edges of sleep blurring his consciousness.

“Yeah mate, thanks,” Bahorel muttered, pressing a gentle kiss to Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Anytime.”


End file.
